Things like, “Why thank you, yes, I will take a third helping of dessert.”

or

“We can hang out at our house, but you guys have to not touch the dust piles. I’ve been collecting them for three months, and there’s one specimen that I think is becoming sentient.”

And then there are things that you hope to one day say, like:

“Oh, you are too kind – but if anyone here is a comedic genius, it’s you, Ms. Fey. Or may I call you Tina?”

or

“I just invented a new kind of cheese which makes you skinnier.”

And then there’s shit that you never imagined saying, but somehow, you end up saying it. I’m guessing every single person who’s ever uttered, “I’m getting a divorce” or “I didn’t realize it was raccoon meat” has felt this way. The words leave your mouth, and they don’t sound real.

Lately, I’ve been saying a lot of things like that. Mainly, this:

I have a brain tumor.

I’ve named it Steve.

The standard reaction to this revelation is something like this:

“What the fuck do you mean ‘you have a brain tumor’?”

Followed quickly by, “Wait, why Steve?”

As for the first question … yeah. I know. I don’t really get it, either. I’m hoping if I keep repeating it, it will make more sense. For what it’s worth, I didn’t really understand Inception, either.

As for why I named it Steve, … well, duh. What else was I going to name it? There is no one to whom I am particularly close who is named Steve. I’ve never kissed a boy named Steve. I’ve never uttered the phrase, “Steve, I love you.” And Steve is nice and short and easy to add to a long list of unrepeatable words. Behold:

“Fucking goddamn miserable piece-of-shit Steve.”

See how well that works? It kind of rolls off the tongue, really. And considering how many big words we’ve had to deal with over the last couple of weeks, I’m inclined to stick to something short and sweet and monosyllabic (this must be how the Kardashians feel).

Self-portrait in exam room mirror. Not pictured: Steve.

-

Besides, the technical name for Steve is a bunch of words I can barely pronounce. When we first learned of him, some overzealous radiologist thought he might be glioma, which is a word that you should not, under any circumstances, look up, because it is bound to lead to an absolutely miserable few days. Trust me on this. That weekend was punctuated with tears and sniffling and HOLY-SHIT-I-NEVER-WROTE-A-BOOK realizations.

Also, rather inexplicably, I cleaned out my closet that weekend, because I didn’t want people going through my stuff and thinking, “Dear god, when did she ever plan on wearing that?” Nothing like a little fear of brain cancer to convince you, once and for all, that you can’t pull off skinny jeans.

I concede that the closet purge might have been melodramatic. But the ingesting of half a dozen cupcakes in three days was completely justified, and I have no regrets.

Fun fact: when you get an MRI, you can’t have any metal on you, so if you’re wearing jeans, they give you scrubs to put on. Or, as I call them, MEDICAL JAMMIES!

-

Discussions with doctors followed, and more tongue-twisty words were thrown out. The good news is that my neurosurgeons (yes, I have neurosurgeons now) are pretty darn confident that Steve is not a glioma, which means I can procrastinate on my novel a little more and continue wasting away long hours eating cookies while watching TV with my sweetie. Phew.

Instead, the doctors think Steve is a – wait for it – pilocytic astrocytoma (coincidentally, I’m pretty sure that’s also the name of an ancillary character from The Hunger Games). Weirdly, those are the type of tumors that most often appear in children and young adults, so it’s nice to know that some part of my body is still youthful. My boobs might be making a mad dash for my knees, but the inside of my brain thinks it’s 18.

Frankly, this diagnosis sounds pretty plausible to me, especially after looking at some of the symptoms associated with pilocytic astrocytoma (from my good old unreliable friend Wikipedia):

OMG. That sounds JUST LIKE ME. Except for the lack of appetite part. And my biggest visual complaint is people who wear Crocs out in public. But everything else? SPOT ON. There might as well be a photo of me on that Wikipedia page (actually, give me two seconds, and there will be).

The good news: the neurosurgeons say there’s an 80% chance Steve’s benign. If he’s not benign, odds are he’s still very easily treatable.

And then there’s the very-small chance that he’s a more aggressive kind of brain cancer (on the plus side, he’s tiny. I think we can deal with tiny and aggressive. Hell, I am tiny and aggressive).

Unfortunately, there’s no way to definitively figure out what Steve is without a biopsy – which wouldn’t be such a big deal except for the fact that Steve’s clinging to my hypothalamus like a bride-to-be clutching a Vera Wang gown at Filene’s basement.

So they’re going to drill a hole in my head, poke some tools through my non-dominant frontal lobe, and pull off a piece of Steve. Then they’re going to seal up my head with a titanium plate (sadly, adamantium is unavailable.)

Talk about shit I never thought I’d say: “I’m having brain surgery tomorrow” definitely belongs on that list.

They might even manage to the do the surgery without cutting my hair (they’ll just part it), but the surgeon made no promises.

-

Regardless of the outcome – whether he’s cancer or not – they’ll likely never need to do more brain surgery.

And if it is cancer … well, we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it. Like I said, my tumor’s small (only 1 cm), and he hasn’t ventured into any other parts of my brain.

Still, we’ve been slightly on edge in my house about the whole brain tumor/brain surgery/brain cancer thing:

Me: What if they botch my surgery?

Rand: They aren’t going to botch your surgery.

Me: But what if they do. What if they accidentally hit the part of my brain that controls sarcasm. Or what if I wake up and I’m vapid?

Rand: You aren’t going to wake up vapid.

Me: BUT WHAT IF I DO? What if I suddenly decide that Katherine Heigl is the greatest comedic genius to have ever lived, and I spend all my waking hours watching her movies? What if I start a fansite dedicated exclusively to her work?

Rand: Okay, that would actually be kind of amazing. I sort of want to see that happen.

We’ve actually started taking turns freaking out. I mostly freak out about the surgery. Rand freaks out about the possibility of cancer:

Me: Stop it. You’re giving me that look.

Rand: What look?

Me: That oh-my-god-what-if-it’s-brain-cancer look. It’s sort of sad and weirdly probing. It’s the look that everyone’s been giving me lately.

Rand: I’m not giving you that look.

Me: Yes you are. It’s like you’re trying to memorize my face. And then your chin starts getting all quivery. JUST LIKE IT IS NOW.

Rand: Well … what if it’s brain cancer?

Me: It’s not brain cancer. I’m not awesome enough to be diagnosed with something that dramatic.

Rand: That’s the problem. You are precisely that awesome.

Me: Awww. That’s sweet. I’d totally make out with you if you’d stop giving me that look.

Rand: I’m not giving you that look.

Me: YES YOU ARE.

There’s also a series of complications that could result from disturbing my hypothalamus (whom I’ve named Cerise. Obviously). She might not take kindly to Steve being evicted. I imagine the two of them are in this weird dysfunctional relationship, and Cerise really doesn’t want Steve to leave, but he’s bad for her, and she doesn’t see it and …

“It’s amazing that this is how you spend your time.” – Rand

-

What? Doesn’t everyone imagine soap-operatic vignettes about their brain tumors? It can’t be just me, folks.

Anyway, poking around near my hypothalamus might make me really tired. Or really hormonal. Or I might gain a ton of weight. So not all that different from the status quo, really.

My operation is first thing tomorrow morning, Seattle-time. It will take a couple of hours, and if all goes well, I should be awake by early tomorrow afternoon, just in time for Ellen.

I suspect Rand will likely be tweeting about it, if you want to know what’s going on. I won’t be online for a few days – though I already have a few posts pre-scheduled to go up later this week. And I’ll likely be taking a few days off next week, though I’m not really sure. It’ll depend.

I realize that this sounds like a really big deal, but it’s surprisingly common and par-for-the-course. My surgeon does 300 of these procedures a year. Plus, it’s likely benign. And even in a worse-case scenario, things are looking really good. I have a friend who’s had actual brain cancer TWICE, and he’s doing awesomely (I’m staring at his wedding photo right now, actually.)

And sweet heavenly father, let’s get some perspective: children get pilocytic astrocytomas all the time. LITTLE KIDS GET THIS. I have the pleasure of dealing with this as an adult, which is far easier.

But since I’ve been cleaning house in every other aspect of my life, there are a couple of things I would like to note before I go get my skull drilled, just for piece of mind (heh).

To all my readers: Thanks for visiting my blog. Having this silly little site makes it shockingly easy to deal with the unexpected things life sends.

To Rand: Stop giving me that look. YES YOU ARE GIVING ME THAT LOOK. Everything will be fine. (Also, between you, me, and the internet? I love you more than the waking world).

To everybody else: Damn it, I love you guys, too. Please stop sending me cupcakes. I like them, but this is getting ridiculous. Also, thank you for your calls and emails and texts and tweets.

To every hater that ever wished me cancer, death, or other unpleasantries: Game on, bitches.

Let’s do this.

-G

P.S. – Everyone has been curious as to why I got an MRI in the first place. Basically, I was having miserable headaches that were preventing me from getting work done. And they were near-daily in frequency.

I know what some of you are thinking: you probably get headaches often, and you’re now wondering if you have a brain tumor.

Comments (459)

I’m really proud of you KTL. You’ve been a trooper, and you’ve been so awesome to me these last few weeks. I love that you wrote this, too. You know it’s been tough for me to keep it secret, and I almost feel like part of the reason you’re publishing is to make me feel better. Thank you. I love you. I promise to be (mostly) nice and patient with your Mom while we wait at the hospital.

p.s. We’re not religious, so mentions of various deities may confuse us.

Prior to reading this, I had mentioned on various social platforms that you are both in the thoughts and prayers of the DragonSearch team. After reading this, I will clarify that we are praying to the digital gods that a massive Kickstarter campaign will be created to effectively banish Steve into the land of websites that Google hates. If that makes any sense at all…

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that we’re all hoping for the absolute best-case scenario and a super speedy recovery! Keep your head up and never turn down a cupcake!

Oh, don’t take Rand too literally. I grew up Catholic. I have no problem with people praying (my grandmother prayed constantly). And I don’t care who or what they pray to. Belief is belief, and it’s wonderful.

Hey doll! You are in my thoughts and prayers. It’s time for Steve to kick rocks. Translation: Move the fuck on! Having a recent scare of possible MS a few months ago, I can understand the many emotions you and Rand are and have gone through. Just know you have an amazing support system. You are a beautiful woman inside and out who will kick the shit out of Steve. Love and hugs to you! xo

My mother was raised Catholic. She once drew a cross on my forehead with Holy water prior to undergoing routine tonsillectomy. I thought she was off of her rocker, but it didn’t matter. Religious or not, it was nice to know that she was worried about me.

You’ve got a lot of cheerleaders across the country (if not world) shaking their pom-poms for you. We will all be doing the wave in the stands for you tomorrow!

Geraldine (it really feels weird addressing you by your first name, after following your blog for more than a year! great blog seriously!), what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. yea i know this sounds cliche, but i really hope it’s a false alarm.

speedy recovery, and keep blogging after defeating Steve!
(do you know how much your blog posts mean to me, when i enter to work on a gloomy day, and my manager’s face looks like burnt pancake?)

Hi there, I called mine Timmy!!!!! Sucessfully removed 12 weeks ago and I am fully functioning… Your positive attitude will get you through this. You sound like me, joking and making fun but it’s the only way to go lady!!! Good luck and you’ll be good. Youth is on your side – that’s what I was told x ( and i’m 38!!!!! )

I have an Anaplastic Astrocytoma grade 3 that was resected August 2012. Did 6 weeks radiation and temodar. Doing well. First MRI looked good. Next MRI is this Friday. Feeling fantastic regardless of what the test results are. No deficits whatsoever.

There are many things that I want to say but somehow they don’t seem clever or pertinent after reading this! How on Earth do you manage to write something this good and witty about your own brain tumor?

Anyhow. Best of luck for tomorrow. Perhaps I can send you macarons instead of cupcakes?

My heart stopped – for a minute. I’ve only met you fleetingly, a few times. I’ve heard the gorgeous Rand speak a few times more – it is one of the highlights of my t’internet year – not because he’s gorgeous (although that helps) – I like listening to folk who know what they’re talking about, and reading stuff – it’s honest.

Saw Rand’s tweet. Sounds awful but keep that sense of humor and you’ll be fine tomorrow “Steve” sounds like he has no sense of humor so who wants to have him hanging around – best to just get rid of him

I shouldn’t have expected you to break the news about a brain tumor with the same humor you write all of your other posts…but I really should have. Though I haven’t met Steve, I’m not sure he and I would become friends…hopefully he’ll be out of your life soon.

PS: Thanks for adding the PS because I was very curious what brought this out.

Get through surgery and better soon so we can get back to reading your escapades….

You don’t know me. I have only commented a few times but I have been reading your blog for over a year now.

I think you are amazing and hilarious in general but you pretty much just blew me out of the water with this post. Your humor and strength is something that I think everyone wishes they could have if given the same situation.

Instead of cupcakes I will be sending lots of good thoughts from Portland and giving the stink eye to anyone named Steve that I might come across tomorrow.

I couldn’t believe it when I read Rand’s tweet this morning (it’s around 9am here in the UK).

I also can’t believe how well you seem to be handling it. I never expected to read a blog post with the phrase “I have a brain tumor” in the title that made me laugh a few times (and that’s not meant completely insensitively of course – but your “HOLY-SHIT-I-NEVER-WROTE-A-BOOK” realisation, the fact that you call them “medical jammies” and your conversations with Rand did make me chuckle). My mother’s a three-time cancer survivor (both breasts and skin) and I don’t think my family ever could’ve handled it the way you’re currently handling it. I have so much admiration for you.

No fear – they will remove a tiny piece of your body to get rid of Steve, but they would have to remove 99.9% of your body to even get near the sarcasm. If they took your sarcasm, you’d be, say, a small part of one earlobe or some such fraction of a backwater appendage.

I’m not GIVING YOU THAT LOOK. Truly. But I will say, I hope it turns out to be even less of a big deal than it probably is. And then you can milk it by spending the next six months wearing a tinfoil hat with a red cross on it and using it as a justification for making your world a better place, eg. coffee shop “young man, can you turn your shitty music down please, my brain is healing! Look at my hat! Right? SO TURN IT DOWN.”

The only diety I will mention is Thor. Let’s hope he smites Steve with vengance. OK…can I add Loki as well? You seem to have a great relationship with him, and he’s mischevious like you. What about Hermes for a quick cure? And Dionysis for the debauchary that will ensue when this ordeal is over.

That’s a phrase I never thought I’d read either. It was a very strange feeling to be teary and laughing at the same time, but it’s great to see you still have a sense of humour through it. Best wishes for tomorrow and everything to come.

you two are the most adorable couple ever and I am so glad that you have each other now that you have to go through this. I have never met you but this is the thing with these blogs – I’ve been reading the everywhereist for a while now and I feel like I know you. So yes, I am worried about the surgery and I will be checking twitter and here for updates. When this is all over and you resume your travelling, please stop by Zurich! I can’t wait to see what you will make of the Swissies:) And please do not procrastinate on that book with or without Steve – I would LOVE to read it as soon as possible!!!

What if when they take Steve out, you find out it’s a girl? What will you name it? Stevette?
All the best for the operation. This is one of the most beautiful posts I have ever read. Thank you for writing it.

Holy shit, reading this makes me want to crawl under a blanket and stay there for a day. You’re handling this so rationally and bravely–I’m in awe. I’d be freaking out and having an existential crisis.

I can’t say I’ve read a lot of posts from people with brain tumours but if I had this would definitely be the most humorous and uplifting one. I hope everything goes well, kick Steve’s tiny, aggressive ass.

I dont quite know if I should laugh at how well you wrote it or cry at what you wrote. I wish you the very best and unlike Rand I am deeply religious so I’ll pray for you and wish you all the strength.

I knew a Steve once. Low life f$&/!?& bludger. A real parasite. A slimy little freeloader.
So great choice of names!
So sad – but you and Rand are both strong.
You will get through this.
My prayers are with you both.
Sincerely.
Chris

Sweetie all the SEO/SEM guys & girls are thinking of you from Australia.

Just make sure that Dr does not knock out the Sarcasim & inner beauty & wit. You are in good hands, & Rand is your Angel. So no matter what happens, he will be there for you, with all of us supporting him.
SEOmum makes gr8 boys & they marry the best girls, so rest well & be gentle to your self while u recover. Don’t rush back online have Rand write for you.

My stomach dropped right out when I saw the title of your post, and I read all the way down hoping against hope that there would be a punch line.
How on earth you can be so stoic about it, I will never know. I think you are brilliant. All my best wishes to you, and to Rand, please don’t worry too much. My fingers will be crossed form now until tomorrow morning, Seattle time. You get that fat hairy freeloader off of Cerise.

This is just not fair. Yours is one of the few blogs that I read regularly (Never misses a post, even went through the archives during office hours!), and you are one of the funniest bloggers. Let’s hope that it’s nothing serious and you will back with all your witty and sarcastic posts.

Oh Steve you tricksy wee bugger. I don’t know what to say obviously I can point out that this post made me chuckle, made me Do my serious face and worried face, but I also ha a small
Daydream about mcdreamy from greys anatomy half way through, but I thought you would be fine with that. I reckon you’re going to have to put poor Cerise in relationship counselling as Steve will totally be biting the dust. It sounds like the prognosis is good. Plus! You get to do what I did which is when someone is annoying you or won’t bend to your will you get to say ‘after all I’ve been through! I had brain surgery and you won’t even nip out to buy me red vines/ take me to the movies/ buy me a lizard (delete as appropriate). I used to say ‘ me and my cancer pants are sad we can’t have red vines’ hey take the perks where you can get them.
Good luck today and we’ll follow rand and make him stop with the face, I know that face it’s proper unsexy isn’t it so yeah we’ll sort that!
Much love
Feel better
Xxxx

Oh well that’s just a real bummer to hear. Even when so beautifully written. I’m reading about Steve, and I’m smiling?? If anyone can beat Steve, you can lady. And what do I know, I just read your brilliant blog, but I have a feeling. You and Rand were meant to grow old together, and you will. Feel very proud of you! Is that odd? Can’t wait to read the “Kicked Steve to the Kerb” post in a few weeks.

Now that my friend Deanna’s gone and introduced me to your blog, you simply can’t stop writing in it. Your archives will only last me so long! But in all seriousness, I’m am wishing you tons of good luck. And when all is well, I know a fantastic roaming cupcake truck in Tokyo (my neck of the woods) to introduce you to, should you find yourself on this side of the world.

I’ve been a fan and a lurker of your blog for quite some time. I just wanted to say that I admire your courage and humor (and appetite for cupcakes) despite Evil Steve. You and Rand are such troopers, it’s amazing. Sending positive thoughts and good wishes your way, all the way from the Philippines!

I don’t know you or Rand but have been reading your blog for more than a year now and have even read through most of your archives so feel that I had to just say you, with Rand’s help, will kick Steve’s ass and will be back shortly to make us giggle behind our computers pretending to work

All the best for the surgery and keep us posted! Never thought I would be laughing whilst reading about someone’s brain tumor either, I loved the “cartoon” the most and Rand’s question to you about whether is this really what you do with your time! Hilarious!

Wow. Just wow. Sending thoughts of strength and healing. And hoping your neurologist looks kinda like Jeff Goldblum, cause he’ll be looking deep into your eyes A LOT in the next few days. Not that Rand has anything to worry about…but it does make it a little nicer.

I have been a faithful fan now for about a year and have grown very fond of you and Rand. Today’s news made me very sad. I have MS and find that the difficulties it brings mostly anoying, often funny and sometimes tragic. Your post today made me cry while smiling and inspires me to look on the bright/funny side of life’s difficult moments. For that I thank you. Best of luck in kicking Steve’s ass as only you can.

Saw this post tweeted by Brad Feld on Twitter. I hate Steve too. Good thing I don’t have a kid named Steve.

Moral support for you. My friend had five tumors on his brain, and lung cancer. He survived and is living well today. It was an ordeal for him, but keep your sense of humor and you will get through it.

Have your significant other pick up the book, The Color of Rain. They will enjoy it and give you strength.

Steve. I hear it and think Steve Martin in that one film where he had a large nose. What was that?

I find Steve to be an appropriate pet name.

I went through two health scares a year ago and the C word was undermining my ability to function normally, thanks to some deep-setted fear of dying early and tragically. Don’t all 10-year olds believe that?

No?
Oh…

Sending you all of the best and warmest thoughts and wishes. For both of you. I’m even including an air-thought package of cupcakes via USPS. Don’t look for it on their website. It’s a new thing I’m trying out for them.

Wow. I was not expecting that AT ALL (likely how you felt, too). I think the internet would be useless without your witty commentary on the world of travel. Here’s to Steve and Cerise parting peacefully and to many, many more happy blog posts. Best wishes and positive thoughts headed your way.

If brain rumors can inspire this kind of good writing, well we should all get them from time to time. But we shouldn’t, really and I wish for Steve to end his time attached to Cerise and let you an Rand return to your (otherwise boring??) life. Its also my daughter’s birthday and if I could I’d take some of her (now) 6 year old spunk and send it your way in part because I want her to grow up thinking about how kick-ass she should be in anything she does and be that way because she took inspiration from other kick-ass funny poised and creative women, like you. Good luck with the surgery. Kick Steve’s ass. Be strong. Our little corner of Oakland sends its best.

My husband’s name is Steve. He’s still sleeping right now but I went to take a look. He’s the best thing since chocolate cake but I did have to give him a poke in the leg just in case in some alternate dimension all Steves are somehow connected.

did you name your tumor after my little brother on purpose? i was reading all the “kick steve’s ass!” and “goddamn piece of shit steve!” comments above and kept thinking, “really, he’s not all that bad, only a sometimes slightly annoying little brother…” …darling, i love you, you have so so so much love and support holding you & rand right now. i like what you said to me last night. “this is a story that we will laugh about some day.” i look forward to that day! it will be soon. in the meantime, i hope the procedure goes as smoothly, quickly and seamlessly (and with as little effect to your gorgeous hairline) as possible. and ps – NICE FUCKING SCARF!! it’s like margot tenenbaum’s wallpaper! sorry, getting distracted here. point is, you know me. you know i know things. one of the things i know? you will fly through this fabulously, and will finally get rid of those fucking headaches! they will be a thing of the past! you know, it’s funny. i am so not worried. i feel bad, like i should feel more worried and anxious for you. like i am being insensitive or self-centered, not hardly worrying about this at all. but then i realized – it’s because of my knowing. my knowing that this will only benefit you, will only bring good news, and that before you know it, we will be eating gelato and laughing about this story.

Steve sucks major monkey balls. You however are amazing. This post just reaffirms that you will totally kick Steve in the ass. Best of luck tomorrow, to both you and Rand. Don’t worry if they do have to cut your hair, I think you’ll look as good as Natalie Portman with a shaved head.

Well, I am religious. So I am praying that Cerise understand what a slob Steve is and she can be just fine on her own! And yes, I will pray for the best biopsy EVER.

You are an awesome person, I hope that one day when I venture down to Seattle (I live in snohomish county, and I have become leery of one way streets) I will bump into you. I am not sure what will happen after that moment, I make no promises.

Steve just isn’t respectable. I say kick the bum out!
In case anyone has any qualms of naming the damned thing Steve.
From The Tao of Steve: state of being Steve, definedhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UefQYjG7rM

Geraldine, for what it’s worth, I had brain surgery 7 years ago, and actually woke up smarter. It was for a subdural hematoma, not a tumor, and I was actually able to spell that ridiculous term afterward.

Anyway, right before I went in to the OR, I strangely stopped worrying and knew everything was going to turn out fine. I’m betting you’ll have the same outcome. Best wishes.

Sweet sainted mother of whoever (I was told not to mention deities or icons). I don’t know you, you don’t know me, but I promise I’m not making the sympathy face. Good luck with the surgery & recovery. The world is thinking of you & Rand.

So sorry you have to go through this! I hope the surgery goes perfectly and Steve is evicted and Cerise doesn’t mind too much! Tell her to be strong! Good luck Geraldine! Sending lots of good vibes your way

I read exactly one blog (this one), and I have never posted anything on the internet more than facebook statuses. But I wanted to say that I found your blog at a rough time in my life, and quite simply, it’s helped. You and Rand give me a lot of hope for real, laughter-rich-and-adventure-filled love. I’m not religious either, but you can bet your ass I’ll be sending good thoughts your way all day tomorrow. Get it, lady. May the indefatigable spirit of Jeff Goldblum be with you.

hi my name is jen,
i have the same thing as you i think, how r u feeling thank u for making me laugh, instead of crying I’m very scary, i have 3 little kids and I’m not done yet , so send me some of ur strong and god speed with a hole Steve

I’m doing great, thanks for asking. It takes a while to feel like yourself again – it is brain surgery, after all. Good luck with your surgery and your recovery – it sounds like you have an awesome support system in place.

I just started reading your blog recently because you completely cracked me up with your Fifty Shades of Gray post. Then, your travel photos, then, your general sarcasm. So, really, I hope everything goes awesome and you are back at it soon. Good luck!

As a Steve who’s name is constantly preceded with Fucking goddamn miserable piece-of-shit, I completely endorse your choice of name. This whole thing reads like that month I spent sleeping on a friend’s couch. Go for it, kick his ass!

Good luck with the surgery, but no matter how it turns out, I sort of agree with Rand, a Katherine Heigl fan site would sort of rock.

For someone that I have never met, my eyes are stinging and teary from reading this post. I so enjoy the person I see behind your posts. Your wonderful intellect, sense of humor, and positive outlook will get you through this. I am not a religious person so I’ll just say I am sending all the healing vibes I can.

Geraldine, I’ve only been reading your blog for a few weeks, but, as hands-down the consistently most well written blog I follow (including several famous novelists’), everywhereist has already become a fixture of my morning internetting. I’m not sending you well-wishes selfishly trying to defend the status quo of my blog-reading though. I’m wishing you luck because the world is a richer place for everyone because you’re in it. Keep us total strangers updated! -Chris

Your hypothalamust stand up for itself! No more of that scumbag Steve.

But in all seriousness, I admire your tumor humor and the cheerful resilience with which you’re facing this down. I wish you and Rand the best possible outcome and (hopefully) some celebratory confections soon.

Also, I adore your drawing–you should include them more often! I expect your future book to be fully illustrated and in color.

I don’t know you guys at all, but I want to send my best wishes anyway, for what they’re worth.

I hate and love this post. I hate that you have cause to write it and love that you were able to find an uplifting slant.

I can relate to the ‘Steve’ thing as well. I’m not great on planes so when I’m in the air I follow the route on the little electronic map and ask myself as we fly over the different places “What would the disaster be called if we crashed *now*”. It definitely helps.

I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed and I hope the next news you get has fewer percentages in it.

People say ‘stay strong’, but you don’t have to. be as vulnerable as you need to be, lean on the people around you and get yourself fixed up.

After enjoying your blog over the past year (while battleing breast cancer) i am not suprised at your sarcastic reply … in times like this you have to go with what you know. it worked for me …

and, i definately know that look that Rand is giving you … stop it already … there are no words to express how annoying that is (my husband Carsten, who i love on the same scale as you love Rand, definately had that look from time to time.)

Like a lot of people commenting I’ve not met you or Rand in person, but have grown to know a bit about you guys through Twitter and blog posts. Really feel for the both of you having to battle Steve, kick his ass man.

If Steve does have to go then Cerise will be sad for a while, but she’ll then have the time to meet new friends. Wendy the Subthalamus for example. Weekend trips to Vegas in a convertible, ladies night at the…[quickly Googles Rands Seattle guide]…Tavern Law, and foxy boxing.

On a less serious note we can’t have kids so our Thorgi-wannabe Morgan is our boy, he had to battle cancer early last year and I thought his post-op pic might cheer you up: http://twitpic.com/a1557l

My thoughts of a speedy recovery go to you! I had gallbladder surgery a few years ago and totally freaked out in the waiting room, I can’t even imagine your nerves at this moment. You have such wonderful family and friends though, I’m sure you’ll be in good hands. And let’s hope those doctors don’t mess with your sarcasm, it’s perfect just as it is!!

I thought your title was a joke but I suppose that’s not something to joke about. It is however something that needs all the humor thrown at it possible which you, as always, do brilliantly. Looking forward to your book in 20 or more years.

Hoping your surgery goes well and that Cerise wises up and realizes she’s better off without Steve. If it makes you feel any better, I also had to get an MRI for daily headaches (no brain tumor though), and I was not allowed to wear any of my own clothes. I had to wear a gown. Yes, an open in the back, hello that’s my butt kind of gown. Whereas you look cute and blog-able pre-MRI in clothes that actually cover everything!

Ive been a lurker reading your fabulous blog for months , and I am in shock reading this bloody upsetting post .. I know you said a while ago you had been involved in stuff ..which you would soon tell us about ..but I never bloody expcted THIS !!!
so after all the fun , insight and joy you´ve given me ..I think its my turn to give something in return .. ..to you , Geraldine I send you love , courage, strength , and the best ever cupcakes…to Rand an hug and to steve ..well I give you my foot with my giant steel toed capped boot to kick you right out ..IMPOSTER !! and i don´t care how bad it makes Cerise feel …….
and now the main thing is YOU and YOU GET WELL you sweet gorgeous lovely being ….thats YOU !
hugs from a Brit in Germany x

Oh Geraldine, I have no idea what to say. It seems like you’re dealing with this just fine, and are in a better place than I am at the moment. HOWEVER, even given that, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.

I have an evil ex named Steve and, even when you have uttered the words “Steve, I love you,” the phrase “Fucking goddamn miserable piece-of-shit Steve” still rolls off the tongue very naturally!!

While I am yet another anonymous reader of your blog, I wish you the best and will send good vibes your way. Here’s hoping you get to the satisfaction of serving your Steve with an eviction notice as I had the pleasure to do with mine!

BLERG! Officially not my favorite post, but you’ve got this. I get a feeling about these things. My gut says you are going to be AOK! Trust my gut. I call it Kevin. What am I gonna call it? I eat too much. BORING. Warm, healing, truck loads of thoughts and well wishes coming your way.

Speaking as someone who has had brain surgery (to clip an aneurysm), I completely understand how surreal it is to be like “Oh, yeah, I’m having brain surgery tomorrow.” I cried for hours the night before my surgery and was so worried about the condition in which I might wake up. I, too have a plate in my head as well as some screws, which always prompts the question “So, do you set the alarm off at security at the airport?” The answer is no. Sometimes the whole experience feels like it happened to someone else and I was just watching. Anyway, this stranger will be thinking of you and hoping all goes well! It is just one more thing to make you a stronger person and not take life for granted. Best wishes!

G, you are amazing. Well & truly so. I am sending you & Rand all the positive thoughts I have in my world, which – perhaps not surprisingly – take the form of baked goods when they enter your atmosphere.

Also, if I’m being completely honest, I feel a little sorry for Steve. He has no idea of the force he is up against. He does not stand a fucking chance.

Wow, that is crazy news for sure! I remember the day my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer like it was yesterday. Somewhat different scenario, but still news you don’t ever want to hear. My wife blogged about her experience and is now ultimately a story of survival… if you care to read it here is a link: http://www.danandholly.com/index.php/hollys-story-2/. I know you said you guys aren’t religious, so I’ll warn you that we are and there is a lot of “God talk” in the posts, but maybe you’ll find encouragement in reading of another young woman like yourself over-coming hard times. Also, should it turn out to be cancerous, the American Cancer Society is a great resource for anything from helping you sort through everything the doctors are telling you, to pairing you with someone who has survived the very thing you’re dealing with so you can talk if you want to.

There are tons of studies that show that people who talk about what they’re going through get better faster then those who hold it in… so you keep writing; and we’ll keep reading. Best of luck with the surgery!!!

Praying Steve is one of those wimpy guys who has not athletic potential, someone who is a pest and not strong enough to hold on to any part of your brain or body. May he just be a memory of this incredibly challenging time and become something of the past very soon!

I’m with Rand. They are not going to botch up the surgery! This is surely one of the biggest challenges imaginable. For these doctors, it’s common place. Continue with that relaxed approach with confidence as you let go and let them take over. Don’t take on worries of tomorrow that are not hear yet and do all you can to live each moment.

You’re going to have plenty of time to write that book without medical jammies! Maybe you just started the first chapter…

xoxox Now I see why my cupcake was *accidentally* rejected. My heart & prayers are with you both – You and Rand, not you and Steve. Steve must die, and Cerise will be fine! You are amazing & I wish I could reach through the internet and hug you!

And I thought running a business was tough. I am with Rand on this one, you are precisely that awesome. You offer so much to a world that is fairly depressing without humor. You have our prayers as we anxiously await your speedy post Steve recovery. Just a thought but you might think about becoming the “every-day-ist”
There is a Salmon BBQ with your name on it should you choose to head north.
All the best Geraldine.

Fuck Steve! I love that you are keeping your sense of humor in this, and from reading Twitter, I believe everything went well (as we all knew/hoped/prayed/did rain dances that it would. I love your blog, I love reading about how much Rand loves you, and I hope you recover quickly so that you can get back to your adventures and eating all of that delicious food that makes me want dinner at 9AM.

I’m sending you THE BEST WISHES across the ocean from Vienna!
Go and kick that fucking damn Steve in his ASS !!!!!! YOU CAN DO IT!!!!!!!!!
crossing my fingers, toes and everything else i find to cross for you tomorrow!

Yup, pretty sure that is the biggest WTF there ever was on WTF Wednesday. I think you might have to retire WTF Wednesdays after that one.

Your post had me simultaneously weeping and laughing. I am so sorry this is happening to you. A brain tumor is like my worst fear, so I can’t even begin to fathom whats going through your and Rand’s heads at this point. I will be thinking of you and praying for you tomorrow and looking for posts from Rand on how you’re doing. I know you’ll be ok and I promise not to give you that look through the computer, that look sucks. Know what else sucks? Steve.

Cerise better not put up a fight or I’ll come out there and knock some sense into her.

Steve is the name my girlfriends and I used to give to generic club bros who gravitate toward large groups of girls and have no distinguishing qualities. We would call these guys Steve to their faces, despite the fact that they likely had other names. As in, “Thanks for the drink Steve. I don’t care what your real name is Steve. I hate your shirt Steve.”

It’s easy to see why Steve, with all of his intruding and annoying qualities, wants to be close to your fabulous brain. Steve is your bitch and should be milked for all of the cupcakes and extra hugs he’s worth. Fuck Steve, you got this G.

As usual, I admire the hell out of you. Sending thoughts of love, health and strength to both you and Rand because although you are strong, it’s shit like this that reminds us all that we are still human.

Also, if they jack your hair up, Mike and I will go on a hunt for the most fabulous hat in NYC and bring it to Seattle in a few weeks. Promise. Love, B

Well I haven’t known anyone that has had a brain tumor or anything this scary before, so I’m actually a little saddened by this and I feel for you. Your humor and wit is amazing through this all. So I’ll be praying to the sweet baby Jesus catholic God for you if you’ll accept.

First: while I am a little hurt that you chose the name Steve, I’ll give you a pass. Totally call that jerkface hypothalamus-hitchhiker whatever name you want. It is pretty fun to read a collection of comments featuring people writing mean things about me/not me

Second: it’s amazing (or maybe it isn’t) just how sad I was to read this post. I don’t know you at all, but then again I kind of do. You make me laugh and smile, and I honestly think of you every time I even *see* a cupcake.

Fourth: so much good luck, best wishes, happy thoughts, good vibes, karma and everything else in the universe heading you way! At the very least, you can look back and see this MASSIVE display of love from all around the world. I mean, it took me like 30 seconds to scroll all the way down to add my comment. 30 SECONDS! That’s like forever in internet time.

Please keep us posted. We’re all rooting for you to kick Steve’s ass. Even me.

I’ve had major surgery twice, including having vestigial organs removed and thus far I have survived. This is my advice: Don’t think of it as a metal plate; think of it as a magic button that let’s you eat another cupcake. Now whenever you poke yourself in the head we will know you need a cupcake.

Our Batman, who art in Gotham, shadowed be thy name.
Give Steve this day his daily dread
And forgive not his trespasses
For he is a God damn fucking asshole piece of shit.

Really hope everything goes well with the surgery tomorrow G. I’ve got a feeling you’ll be cracking jokes all the way through the procedure and I hope Rand’s right there with you for as much of the time as possible.

And just think of all the awesome “I screwed with the TSA screenings because I’ve got a metal plate in my head” stories you’ll soon be able to write. I’m looking forward to reading them.

Love & cupcakes,
KJ

PS I’m certain you’ve got plenty of time to write that book and even longer to go before your boobs get anywhere near your knees (unless you take up yoga). x

Best of luck Geraldine!! And go to Hell Steve!! I have a little story. Last year my good friend Wes had surgery to remove a Gastro-something stromal Tumor. After “being gutted like a fish” (his words) while he was still somewhat medicated, the following conversation ensued:

Wes: “Nurse, after having surgery like this, will I be able to play the piano?”

Nurse: “I don’t see why not.”

Wes: “That’s nice. I was never able to play the piano before.”

Nurse: (deep sigh and wonders how she got stuck with this idiot for a patient)

You have full license to use this on whatever medical personnel you interact with after Steve has been banished.

Okay, I’m a complete douche because I don’t know you but I feel like I do and I thought that might some thing you would appreciate, but maybe not, so I’m sorry for saying it, and of course, I wish you a speedy recovery and at least two amazing cupcakes every day.

Wow!! It felt like a punch to the nads when I first read this. Made me feel like this was happening to my little sister. Hope all goes well and send Steve down here to Arizona and we will bake his ass until he dies an ugly death.

if you’re still unsure wha’ts causing the headaches, you may want to investigate Trigeminal Neuralgia. the symptoms are very specific in the type of head pain you feel, so this could be a shot in the dark — but my fiance struggled though 2 years of daily, intense stabbing headaches before a doctor finally thought of this. 6 months and a cranial surgery later, he’s doing great.

Sigh. I had an instant line of wishes show up after reading this post. First in line, I wish I had never read this post because you never had to write it. Second in line, a wish that in every step of your journey you feel all the support and love that is rallying around you. Third in line is a wish that you stumble into Gilda’s club, a place where both you and Rand will find another layer of support.

Take people’s help. Let them do groceries, dust and play cupcake gatekeeper.

Having followed your musings for a few years now, I thought that nothing you could say would shock me any more. Man, it really sucks being wrong! Geraldine, you have helped me to giggle through life’s many less-than-wonderful moments & to enjoy every dessert without regret. You inspire all of us with your self-depracating wit & unfiltered awesomeness. I want to be more like you when I grow up & I have no doubt you will get through this crap just fine…if you survive the hospital food.

Only you can make something so serious/scary seem lighthearted and comical. That’s real writing talent! Good luck tomorrow. Wishing you a smooth surgery, benign tumor and an easy, dessert-filled recovery.

At first I thought you’re kidding.
Then I started pittying you.
Then I realised when I grow up I’d like to be as brave and witty as you are.( I’m already 43). It’s the attitude I’d like to have if something like this happens to me.
All the best for you and Rand .

Hi Geraldine,
I’m sitting here in a bar in Croatia, on my honeymoon with my husband of 11 days and just said ever so slightly too loud “holy shit!”. New hubby wanted to know what was going on, and I explained the situation… How you were this lovely, funny, cool blogger I’d been reading for a year or two and had occasional interaction. New hubby (James, he has a name held my hand and told me he loved me and always would. The fact that you have this with Rand and with all the people who are showing their love today, I hope speaks louder than any platitude I could write right now. Given the fact that I’m on my 3rd drink, that I can s

For what it is worth, we have a friend who had a brain tumor that he named F*cker Bob. He was able to successfully evict old Bob and has been doing great for years now. So sorry Steve, but you gots to go.

I know we haven’t seen each other since the very old days at David and Katie’s. Someone showed me your blog for the first time today and I’m looking forward to future posts about you kicking Steve’s ass. I’ve told so many people about you as Princess Leia Organizer. That but of whimsy helped me get through some bad jobs. Anyway, you and Rand are in my thoughts.

Steve Carrell is gonna be SO PISSED when he finds out you named your tumor after him!

I am among the throngs of readers who probably peruse this blog on a daily/weekly basis, and I have to say I think you’ll be fine.

I don’t know you – I’ve never met you in person, but I feel like I have a pretty good sense of your constitution from reading your posts. Plus, people have been drilling holes in each other’s heads for centuries. All those people back in the Middle Ages who practiced trepanning turned out all right…Right?

So best wishes – and we all can’t wait to see you on the other side of this thing!

I feel a little insensitive for giggling my way through a post about brain cancer, but that’s what I love about your blog.
Stinky steve needs to go.
Sending good vibes your way for the annihilation of steve (no capital S for you steve!)

One good thing about the internet is that you have the chance to get to know people like Rand and you. Well, at least a bit. Another good thing is that that in moments like these you have the chance to say something like “All the best for you both. Get well soon!”.

Regardless of how this all turns out, you will never be the same person you were before this diagnosis. You will forever have a deeper capacity for empathy and compassion. And that will make you an even more amazing person than you already are. I’m just sorry you have to go through this to get there.

Wow. I’ve only been reading this blog for a few weeks (stumbled upon it while bored at work) but that news still saddened me to read. I kept hoping the title was a joke. But, as the amount of comments show, you have reached quite a few people with your clever writing & nice photos. So I am joining the group for the first time to wish you good luck in the coming days & weeks!

I’ve discovered your blog fairly recently and I regret now that I have waited until this post to let you know you have a fan in Costa Rica. Thought you’d like to know of your expanding readership. Wish you all the best -let steve have it, off with him! -lots of good vibes going your way from rainy Costa Rica.

I love your writing style: fun, witty and charming! Glad I was introduced to your writing through a mutual friend. On such a personally trying topic, I love the honesty, vulnerability and humor you present it with. I wish you all the best and look forward to the book.

I’m a long-time silent reader of your blog, Geraldine – and was quite excited when you linked to my squeaky sand in Australia post a couple of years ago I’ve been thinking about you non-stop since I first read this post a few hours ago. I think Steve is a total idiot – and a wimp. Only 1 centimeter? That is nothing! He’s so much tinier than you. You can totally kick his ass! Be strong and do it!!

I KNEW I couldn’t be the only one out there who named their medical difficulties! Although in my case, it’s Tourette’s, and I refer to it as Zachary. Much easier to swear at, and just talk about in general. Although the reactions from people who aren’t in on it can be interesting. We also refer to Zachary as my abusive boyfriend (he hits me, among other things), which also gets fun reactions.

I just ran across your blog with this post, and I’m glad I did. Prayers and best wishes for your surgery and recovery. Kick that POS Steve’s ass!

I’ve been reading your blog for the last two years and have nearly peed my pants more times than I can count. You’ve brought so much joy into your readers lives, I hope that Steve receives his Karmic Retribution for messing with such an awesome person like you!

Wow! That is shocking! My best friend just finished radiation for breast cancer. Oh, and I had thyroid cancer years ago. Not sure what my point is here except …. Bad stuff happens and it sucks I’ll be praying for you and Rand. Take care….
amy

If there’s anyone who could beat the shit out of stupid Steve, its you Geraldine. We’re all here for you and looking forward to Cerise’s freedom of that douchey Steve guy. If we switch up the cupcakes with doughnuts, biscotti, cookies, brownies, churros, bacon, and key lime pie, will that be sufficient?

lol, it is so funny that you name your little benign, steve. Easy to pronounce and make sense. By the way, i wish that everything went well for your surgery and you yourself. Hope to read your post about the surgery after you are well enough to write.

I have a mental image of Geraldine, Warrior Princess, riding valiantly into battle against the Cowardly Fuckwit Steve. Your faithful companion, Sir Rand, your protection, your heart, is at your side, and legions cheer you on and wish you well, trusting in your joyous strength to see you through.
The CFS doesn’t stand a chance.
We’re all holding you in our hearts.

You don’t me, but I lurk on the Everywhereist and tell every single person I know to read it. It’s brilliant.

I discovered your blog when I moved to Korea a year ago. THIS MORNING we are packing for a trip to China, and then back home to Maine…for good. My family of 5 is busily collecting and organizing all around me…

I just stopped my husband in the middle of his vacuuming to say “you know my favorite blog with that incredibly awesome writer that I follow?” to which he answered “of course,” and I said, “she’s having brain surgery this morning. It’s possible she has fucking cancer” (and one of my children’s eyes grew wide, because it’s possible he’d never heard that word come out of my mouth. Sorry, buddy.)

And then I said, “it is not coincidental that I never met a guy named Steve that I liked. Ever. Fucking Steve.”

So now I’m sitting in the other room, so I can say fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck and my kids won’t worry that maybe I, too, have a brain tumor.

Your blog, your words, they’ve touched my world, made me laugh, given me something to look forward to each day…Thank you for that.

Hey Geraldine, Still reading this far down? I’m Philip’s sister, so any friend of Philip’s… I’ve been lurking around, uh, enjoying your blog for a while. SUCKS to hear what you’re going though, but sucks a little less to know that the prognosis is good. I also was hit with a medical bolt out of the blue. That was nearly two years ago. Medicine, love, humor and yoga (not necessarily in that order) are getting me through it. Don’t be shy about asking people for help. When they say, “If there’s anything I can do…” hand them a grocery list. Be a little selfish. Get well soon. Katie

Sending you best wishes and positive vibes from Australia – you are going to kick Steve where it hurts, and have the full support from your family, friends and fans from all around the world. Steve picked the wrong lady to shack up with.

Your blog brings so much joy, fun and giggles to my day (thank you), and I look forward to many more posts and adventures to come (when you coming to Melbourne?). Although this news is shocking, you have the strength, humour and balls to get through it.

Let’s start with your name. Sadly, every time I hear it or say it, I’m reminded of Flip Wilson (a comic who was popular forever ago). One of the characters he portrayed was a woman named Geraldine. Yeah. I know. wow. anyhow you’re much hotter than that Geraldine ever was. So there’s at least that.

Now, about Steve. Remind Cerise that even if she’s grown attached to him emotionally, she’s going to really enjoy the new found freedom, get her independence back, and will actually love no longer having such a constricting feeling nagging at her all day every day.

Besides – getting her a new titanium hat will cheer her up. They’re all the fashion these days even if they’re not adamantium. Which is really just for posers anyhow.

More important than all of that, I’m choosing to call on the deity of my own choice, God. Because that’s just my own thing. You are already a miracle in this world, and this is going to turn out miraculously as well.

And even though Kristy is just down the street from you, and you have so many others who care and are right there, I’m only an hour south. And kind of have a bunch of free time on my hands lately. So if/when you have any need/desire for a helping hand, someone to laugh at uncontrollably (let’s face it, I’m kind of good a being an asshat people love to laugh at), or whatever it is, you just let me know. And I’ll be there in a heartbeat.

Oh – and I can do a pretty good Bill Murray impersonation, just in case you want to check that off your bucket list. #WIN

My mom is a 35+ year survivor of brain cancer. She is now 69. My step dad is a 20 year survivor of bladder cancer. I had some icky cells removed myself 4 weeks ago. You will get through this. Making the Heigl fan site might be just a fun way to pass some time though.

Hugs,

Jansen clan in Kansas City – who you and R must have BBQ with on your next trip through KC area.

I read your blog every day, and its strange how I can feel so close to someone I have never met. I just wanted to thank you for bringing all of us readers on your great journeys, and let you know that down here in New Orleans you have someone sending positive thoughts your way all day tomorrow.

Ps. If you do decide to become obsessed with Katherine Heigl, please do not forget about the 1996 classic Wish Upon a Star. I wore lilac lipstick all throughout the 6th grade because of this movie.

Geraldine, you are such a badass. I had a brain tumour back when I was 18 (which was, ahem, a couple of decades ago), and only now do I realize how I squandered its comedic potential. I didn’t even name it, and I LOVE to name things! I just sent it packing and carried on with my life.

Seriously, you are such a strong person (I don’t know you, but it’s evident from your posts) I am sure will come out of this better than the Bionic Woman. For myself, the experience of having the tumour, and subsequently getting a new lease on life has made me the daring, relentless, wackadoo travel writer I am today, and no doubt something positive will come of this for you too.

Look me up next time you’re in the Toronto area and we can share some laughs about MRIs, neurosurgeons, people who give you weird looks and whatnot.

P.S. LOL re the headache thing. I had a tumour the size of a small citrus fruit removed from my head and I still get headaches like I did before. Don’t sweat it, people!

A lime, but it wasn’t as big a deal as it sounds. Though I’m starting to feel guilty that I never named him given that we lived together for 18 years. How unbelievably rude of me! I only kicked him out when he started to get rowdy and cause trouble. Probably just as well that we parted ways. I didn’t deserve him.

It warms my heart to have made you smile. Overjoyed by the news that Steve is most likely benign. Also pleased to see that you got to keep your hair. I had the full Sinead O’Connor treatment. When I was returned to my hospital room after the surgery there was a big brown-paper bag waiting for me on the windowsill. I imagined that some kind soul had brought me chocolate chip cookies. I opened the bag to find it full of …HAIR! Apparently the hospital has a legal obligation to return your hair to you in case you want to sell it. Ugh.

P.S. Out of sheer self-interest I suggest that you stop procrastinating about writing that novel. I wanna read it!

Wishing you all the best tomorrow. From your blog, I can tell that you are a strong person and you will get through this. It will probably be harder for Rand and your mom as they wait. Speedy recovery!

I’ve never read your blog before, I follow Rand on twitter for professional reasons and came here through that. Your personality shines through in this post. Your combination of strength, vulnerability and honesty is touching.

I wish you well tomorrow, and I hope that someday soon we get to have a chat.

You’re a strong woman with a strong man behind you. And of course thousands who are currently sending light speed positive vibes and prayers your way. This WILL be just another experience of life which will only give you even greater perspective on things. Sleep well and we all look forward to hearing of Steve’s demise.

Dammit, that’s one more reason to be vexed by Eastern Oregon. I missed ALL OF THIS, so all I can do is send you the warmest best wishes while you’re sleeping (surely do hope you’re sleeping), and wait for Rand’s updates in the AM. Hugs to you, and more of the warmest best wishes, M.A.

It sounds like you have a great attitude towards the situation. I had a cancer scare recently and one of the toughest parts was keeping myself from getting too depressed/worried about it. So, Rand, keep it to a minimum with ‘that look’.

Your blog makes so many people laugh, you definitely have some good karma saved up. Thank you for cheering me up on so many occasions, Geraldine!

Never met you guys, but been in digital for a while so would be hard not to feel like I know you to some degree!
Best of luck, I hope everything goes exactly the way its supposed to, Steve buggers off/gets evicted quick sharp and you recover nice and quick.
Thinking of you both!

So I spent the evening complaining about things my son calls “First world problems” ( namely my stupid damn garage door opener that only works when you press it with the left side of your thumb as you try to touch your ear with your tongue) Then I sat down for my favourite evening pastime of reading your blog. Now I feel like a douche.

But I’m not as big a douche as Steve!!! I’d say kick ass and take names- but you already have his name- so just kick ass!

A while ago I sent you and email (from Australia) saying that if the internet had been around when I was younger, that if I was younger, I wish I could be you.
You wrote back
I love your writing, your zest for life and the world around us, your love for your husband.

Around the world we are thinking of you and your family – and of your surgeon…do a great job, mate
xx

I wish you all the luck in the world because god damnit, where would we all be without your shining light of snark?! Besides, isn’t this the kind of shit that gives you awesome stuff to write about? “GAME ON” for sure. You can do this!

I’ve only just started reading your blog (which is fantastic by the way, and has got me through some pretty rough days) and I’m sorry to hear the news! I can’t imagine what that must be like. I’m an agnostic, but I will do everything in my power to put Steve-vanishing vibes out into the universe (Ugh, that sounded a touch too New-Agey). In any case, way to handle the news with your trademark humor, candor, and unique perspective!!

If Steve decides to be an asshole, you might just have to make “Fuck off, Steve!” T-shirts just to make your point. This will also ensure that you will never become friends with a Steve and therefore preserve the name for yourself.

I completely missed this post earlier and I am so bummed that I did. I’m sending big internet hugs your way! I am overwhelmed by your amazing sense of humor and candid approach to the news. Your attitude sets a great example for the rest of us.
Best of luck and recover swiftly!

I hope I hope I hope everything goes well today!
You can pull through this! When I was younger my sister had a brain aneurysm and had massive brain surgery, like they had to take off a good chunk of the left side of her skull ( luckily the aneurysm was near the outside of the brain) they put her all back together and she was literally out of the hospital within 7 days. Its been more than 17 years since then and she has never had a problem since.
It was so awesome seeing you in Keystone a couple weeks ago even if it was only for a few seconds. My thoughts are with you guys! Good luck! XOXO

You’re not weird for drawing pictures of/naming your tumor I was born with one and when my doctors took part of it out when I was five I was mad when I woke up from surgery and they hadn’t it kept it for me to have. I think I thought I would keep it in a jar on the window sill or something….though come to think of it I’ve never named it… Good thoughts being sent your way!

I never know what to say in situations like this so rather than try to be funny (which I fail at miserably) or spiritual (almost worse than funny) I’ll just wish you well. I read you regularly and am a diehard fan, and follow Rand for all his SEO help – and I don’t want to be kept waiting for your posts too long so please keep that convalescence short and get back to us soonest!

I too follow Rand on twitter for professional reasons, I had to come on to your site today to say that
I have been extremely touched and overwhelmed by your words, your bravery and your shining personality. You are a true inspiration and I wish you well for today. The best of luck xxxx

I have been away from the blog for a while and I come back to this post. Insanity.

I have a friend who just had this type of tumor removed last month. His was benign and although he still has a few balance problems, he’s fine otherwise. I’ll keep you in my positive thoughts that it’s benign. If it’s not, chemo and radiation does wonders (my mom worked Oncology so I know more about cancer than I should), but still, benign is always a better thing to hear.

Thank GOD you aren’t the DIY crafty type blogger. I don’t think I could handle the Instagrams that would come from a DIY biopsy. There is just no way to work mason jars and white flag bunting into that situation…I’m pretty sure, at least.

I hope you get the best possible news and your head feels better soon. My husband has a space-shuttle worth of titanium in his brain and he hasn’t set off a metal detector to date, so don’t worry about the TSA yet.

Geesh, I go away for a few days without an internet connection and all hell breaks loose! Don’t do that again Geraldine! You scared the shit out of me. Call me as soon as you return home safely. If I sound like your mother, you’re spot on, as usual. I’ve admired your wit and style for about a year without adding my own two cents. My kids rarely appreciate my two cents, although they’ll take a bill (any denomination) without hesitation. I love your work – love the snarky, bubbly, bright companion I’ve never met but with whom I share this beautiful blue planet Monday through Friday of every week. As my father always says, “No jumping the line to get to where we’re all going. It just ain’t right!” God bless. Thinking of you and Rand, and adding my two cents (via prayers).

A friend of mine 2 years ago was diagnosed with a 4cm “Steve” of her own. She had a very successful surgery followed by a short recovery period. I’m sure the same will happen for you My thoughts are with you.

WTF is right! But I just read Rand’s tweets and you pulled through! I just found your site a couple of months ago and I just love you. I have read so many of your posts out loud to my German boyfriend and we laugh our heads off. Sending you the best from Vancouver, Canada. I just know everything is going to be fine. Love you.

Miss Geraldine, I am so happy to hear the good news! I have a 25 year old daughter and a 35 year old daughter and am typing this with tears in my eyes and a big lump in my throat knowing that my virtual middle daughter is going to be ok (you ARE the funniest one you know). I saw your thumbs up picture and just wanted to give you a big old hug. We all love you – even the ones like me who haven’t met you yet. Take care my dear.

When I met you and Rand at TBEX two weekends ago, I’m pretty sure you were aware of that fucker Steve’s presence, and still, you were gracious and sweet and just so lovely to a bumbling fangirl. Just saw your Tweet about the good news — so happy to hear that. As for Steve, well, perhaps we can get Twitter trending on #braintumorssuck.

Take care, Geraldine. Next time you come to SF, there’s a cupcake (or 12) with your name on it.

I remember you, beautiful Blane! I did know about Steve at TBEX, so the conference was a little tough to keep a straight face through. But I really wanted to meet new people and see Rand’s wonderful speech. You were a joy to talk to. I hope the hubby is doing well – he’s going under the knife for his shoulder, right? I know that the experience is always hardest on the spouse. Hang in there, lovely!

I’m so sorry to hear about Steve but from what I’ve read from you, I have confidence that you’re a trooper! I look forward to reading a future blog post that says all is well so I know that you can once again focus on the important things in life – Rand, eating, finding clean public restrooms, and writing a novel.
Best wishes for a speedy recovery!

You’re amazing, lady. I’m a stranger who gasped and wanted to cry reading your post but you immediately had me in stitches. I can only hope to have the amount of strength in my pinky finger as you do! Way to kick Steve’s ass!

You have nothing to worry about-I’m sure there is some proverb about those who make others smile being safe from tumors named Steve. Soon you’ll be traveling to faraway lands with all kinds of bad food and strange viral thingies.peace and love.
Curty p.s. Tell Rand to get some rest as well.

Oh, Steve. If only he knew he was that one kid that showed up to a party who no one really wanted there in the first place. Besides Steve and his social ineptitudes, I just have to say that you are one of the most brilliant writers I’ve ever come across. Your innate talent in balancing wit, humour(YES, I’m Canadian, we spell things with more letters than necessary), sarcasm, and factual knowledge is impressive and makes for a delightful read. I’m deeply sorry to hear about this unfortunate event, and I wish you a speedy recovery so you can get back to smushing Rand with love and gorging on cupcakes (You and I are not so different in this latter aspect).

I’m one of those people who believe that shit happens for a reason. Not for religious reasons, but in that, well, it’s ok that my wallet was just stolen because I was probably about to get on a bus and sit next to someone I knew in highschool and that would have traumatised me for weeks, way. But sometimes very bad things happen and I’ll turn to the people I love and say, “explain this shit to me please”. They hardly ever have a satisfactory answer, but they will console me with cupcakes, which is all you can ask for really.

I’m sorry for shitty Steve. I’m relieved to hear that things are not as shitty as they could be. And I wish you and your family every good thing. Because you deserve it. With cupcakes on top.

You don’t know me, I actually work for Stephan Spencer and we exchanged emails recently when I offered to send you a copy of their book (not having a clue who you were at the time). I just wanted to say…this is a wonderful post and I’ve already seen the twitter updates that it’s not cancer. Steve sucks and you are going to kick him to the curb! Thinking of you.

I just saw this entry so I hope everything has gone well with the surgery and that you have a quick recovery. I’ve recently been through something similar where my doctors found a mass in my eye and for various reasons weren’t sure whether it was a cancerous tumor or just a benign hemorrhage. So, I empathize with that horrible time of worry and frustration and just getting through every day trying to stay positive and working against the unknown. I’ll be thinking of you and Rand and your family. Hang in there and take care.

Your humor and awesome attitude truly inspire me. Sending lots of love and good wishes your way! And you know, no matter how big or small of an asshole Steve turns out to be, maybe part of his existence is to get you going on that book of yours! I’d definitely buy it =]

Ooh, I just stumbled on your blog (I was googling Cottage Grove and your post came up!) and fell in ‘like’ with you andyours immediately. And then to click over to your freshest post and realize you were in surgery…wow! I wish you a speedy and thorough recovery and my fingers are crossed that you do not find yourself ‘vacuous’. (that part cracked me up the most) Now I will have to go scout out the tweets about your progress….(as a mom of five, I will worry for you!)

Somehow that was the best piece of writing on the worst news. I’m so confused. Ellen is on in 20 so I imagine you are out of surgery. Sending happy cupcake thoughts your way. And Cerise, you don’t need him. You’re better off without Steve. He’s an ass. Have a cupcake.

Let me just say how much joy your ‘little blog’ brings me. I mean come on, a gal who LOVES dessert, tends to run into thing, is married to a super cute wonderful guy, and has a snarky sense of humor? You are like my lost twin!

I have loved every minute of following you all over th world and I am looking forward to your future dessert fueled exploits. You kick ass, Steve doesn’t stand a chance.

Now go be fabulous and witty, those guys in the hospital could use some sparkle, and send Rand out for some really amaaazing dessert.

Hang in there Geraldine!! I’ll be thinking of you and Rand! Along with the 300+ posts above, I want to tell you how awesome you are. In the entire universe, I only read two blogs, and the Everywherist is one (and my favorite). My wife and I were in Seattle last weekend and at every hipster restaurant we went to I was watching for you because if I saw you I wanted to be your first (?) “creepy street recognition”. I’m pretty good at creepy (see website above for photographic evidence). Good luck with those doctors and be sure to take it easy when you get home!

I’ve been reading your blog regularly for just over a year now – you are a continual breath of fresh air in the sheer absurdity of it all. I adore the way you make sense of the senseless. Wishing you all the best and hope you ride that bastard Steve out on a rail!

I just linked to your blog for the first time from a friend’s site. This was the first post I saw and it kind of hit home. I had a “pilocytic astrocytoma” when I was 15 years old. I just read the linked page from Mike Curato’s blog that says your tumor is not cancer, that’s awesome news! Mine was also not cancer, but it was resting on my optic nerve so they couldn’t remove it. I had implant radiation therapy, followed by many subsequent MRI’s and it seemed to do the trick, as I am now 30 years old and tumor-free. I was getting the same recurring bad headaches that wouldn’t go away and finally got the first CT scan to find the problem.

Anyway, so glad it’s not cancer and I will be keeping up on your progress. Good luck with everything!

my ex- fiancee’s name is steve and i have to say that i love all the expletives focused around his name, perfect for a son-of-a-bitch tumor that is gonna wish he never met cerise!! she is toooo good for him, and you are tooo awesome to be stressed out! i love your blog and i am sending super high frequency positive thoughts through my computer and into your head so if you could just lean in a bit…. good luck!!! keep smiling and everything is gonna be fine!

OMG, I leave town to help my sister graduate from her CPA program and move her last five years out of Knoxville, and you go and get a (benign! yay!) brain tumor? Geraldine, you have got to stop going and creating so much Internet drama simply because it’s a slow day on Twitter.

So glad things turned out well and that you have a bad-ass scar to show from it all.

Been a bit behind catching up on your blog and thought I’d catch up with the back posts before I read this one… Because this post was a WTF Wednesday, and you HAD to be pulling my leg with that title.

Took me quite a while to realise that you were serious. You are absolutely amazing for taking such a positive approach to life and stinky cheese Steve (that almost rhymes, right?) and writing so lightheartedly about it. I know it’s been a rough few weeks for you, Rand and the family, but to have a patient like you brings such joy in uncertain times.

Just checked Rand’s twitter feed and am so happy to know that it’s benign. Rest well, get well soon. Looking forward to a G-and-half-a-Steve and Rand make out photo

Hello!
You know, this is good: reading your post on July 2nd with a dropped jaw but discovering a few minutes later you have two thumbs and no brain cancer!! Thumbs are pretty important. Imagine life without them. Having cupcakes would be pretty hard….
You’ll be in my prayers. Can’t see the time to read your next post! Your sense of humor is incredibly amazing!
Hugs from Brazil
Laura Sakamoto.

I’ve only recently started reading your blog, so this is quite the shocker to read! I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this. It looks like you’ve got a ton of support, and Rand is totally awesome! I agree with you that the internet is NOT your friend when you have a medical issue not fully diagnosed. I was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 31, and had a similar internet experience before the full diagnosis. It’ll really fuck with you, that’s for sure! Looking forward to reading more posts from you and hearing about more of your adventures! Hugs, and good thoughts coming your way!

I didn’t know how to feel as I read this post. Obviously, something like this is a big concern to you and your friends and family and I really do wish you the best. But, I’m also in awe of your ability to stay so light hearted and humorous about it. You must be the first person I’ve ever come across who’s actually named their own hypothalamus. Stay positive!

Yet another total stranger moved to be a first time replier. Been following you, like, everywhere for about a year. I’m so happy to infer that you are most likely better than okay (at last, a good use for the existence of twitter. Maybe I’ll get on board some day). The nurse in me wants to tell you to go easy, take LIFE real slow. Don’t be superhuman. Cry. See you back here soon enough. Big hugs to you dear girl.

OMG- I didn’t read any blogs while I was in New Zealand for a month– I just saw this today. I checked Rand’s twitter feed and it sounds like even though there is more recovery ahead, things are progressing well.

I was reading back posts to catch up and realized I hadn’t seen a new post from you in my blog roll in awhile so I read this post. After following the tweet path and getting the confirmation that you’re cancer-free, I was able to relax. It’s good to know that the tumor is benign, but also good to know that even if it had been cancer, it more than likely would be a “good” cancer. I was diagnosed with Thyroid cancer 7 years ago and told everyone at the time and in the years that have followed that “It’s ok. It’s a good cancer!” and they always look at me like I’m psychotic.

Now you just need to help Cerise get out of that toxic relationship. And no worries about having to deal with that awkward potential friendship destroyer of you talking shit about her ex after they break up and then she gets back together with him and holds it against you because she’s too stupid to see that, of course you were talking crap about him, he’s the douchebag she broke up with! Nope, not gonna happen because Steve is going to be ancient history. Just keep your humor and feistiness at the forefront and you’ll be golden.

I’ve been right were you are three years ago,, hang in there, hopefully you will find yourself in three years going holy crap how did I gain 30 lbs,, damn my clothes or tight, buy gym equipment use it once aweek and thank your loved ones and god everyday for the second chance you have been given,, I will keep you in my prayers and will track your process and if I’m correct and you are better in 3 years I will buy us a drink.

I was reminded by your story how health often bring unexpected gifts wrapped in really ugly scarey packages. Thought i would share a video that shows some sunshine after the storm of having a child born with a brain defect. Hope it brings a smile.I have never met you ( clicked thru from Brad Feld’s blog ) but live in Seattle and met Rand at a startup conference where he presented on inbound marketing and SEO for startups. Cheers

I am so glad to find this! I just found out I have a brain tumor…meeting with a neurosurgeon on Monday. I named mine Lois. I named it Lois because of the Family Guy episode where Lois tells Brain that she just surpresses her anger because what’s the worst that could happen? Then a shot inside her head shows a Peter shaped tumor singing “I’m a tumor, I’m a tumor”.

I keep going through periods of “everything will be fine” to absolute panic. I also got all my paperwork in order … gaah! I never thought about going through my clothes. I have stuff to do, to sort, and two days to do it.

Hi, Im writing from the International Network of Steve’s and we wanted you to know that we understand that you were under a great deal of pressure when forced into the great naming debacle discussed in your recent post. We are glad that you are feeling better and want you to know we harbor no ill feelings over your choice of names for your Tumor, although there were a few members who sought psychological in dealing with the feelings attached to the situation, fuck them , we never did like those fucking GOD damned piece of shit Steve’s anyway. They were a bunch of pansy’s. So thanks for choosing Steve as your Tumors name. Have a great life, best of luck.

Just found your blog thru Nomadic Matt. This was the first post I read. So glad Steve is benign and that you can now put this behind you. Love your writing style! Ok, gonna keep reading more posts now….

First off, your reaction to Steve is some of the most amazing humor in the face of stress and disbelief I have ever read. Hilarious. Second, you need to get to writing your book. I have read a few comedians books included the aforementioned Miss Fey, and I don’t think hers would even compare to what you could come up with! You owe society at least that! Hope you are in better health and in brighter spirits. If you have some down time check out my new, just released travel blog. http://www.thewondersofwandering.com/. As always thanks for the laughs.

Just found your blog via .. twitter I’m guessing. I was going to compliment you on your nice header design, then I read this post!

Hope things improve and you and Steve part ways. If your surgeon is handy with an iPhone, ask him to snap a photo of your brain. Put that badboy on instagram. I bet the “mybrainforreals” hashtag is seriously under utilised on there.

You NAILED it. I went through the same thing. Thinking, huh, never thought I’d ever say that.

My tumor was a surprise followed by even more surprising brain surgery.

I woke up after being put out by massive drugs. When I groggily fluttered my eyes a handsome German neurosurgeon leaned towards me and said ” you have a brain tumor but it’s ok, we’re going to take it out”. I smiled and said “cool!”.

I woke up with a partially shaved head and a tube with a ball full of “excess fluid” coming out of my Frankenstein stitches. I didn’t mind the deep sea fish dangly thing but I was horrified by the Moa haircut. What did I do to deserve that? They charged me $15 to shave off Mao.

Because I never really got the chance to know my tumor, he went (definitely a he) to his lab jar unnamed.

My post op brain’s name is Houston. As in “Houston, we have a problem”. Houston can be a bit naughty.

Houston and I used to fight like alley cats buy we’ve since agreed to disagree.

Hope you’re recovering well. I think your book is waiting for you to start typing.

wow! just discovered your blog through my friend. i know how you feel. i went through a similar thing last year. kinda freaks you out, yeah? i was more fortunate that surgery was not necessary. so glad your surgery went well and you are back to writing. best wishes and speedy recovery!

Aww dearest I had two astros on my cerebellum. Once when I was 17 and again at 23 two 13 hous surgeries and I have come out phenomenally I like your approach to it I had the same one and would get awkward glares and comments I would be like hey I’m the one having surgery not you so deal!!! Thankfully I am tumor free now (I hope lololol) Anyways, I’m glad you shared this I’m new to your blog and already wish you were my bff I’m conteplating moving cross country just to be close to you hhahhaha!! Happy to hear your better!!

So, I have been following your blog on and off for a few years now – it makes me laugh – everytime. I just read this post and my heart stopped. Then I read about the surgery. Am glad you are doing well and wishing you luck and many cupcakes for the future!!!!!!!!

Hi,
I am a brain tumor survivor. I had surgery at St Joseph’s in Phx, Az on July 23, 1961. It is one of those dates that is forged into your brain like the birthday of your child or the death of a brother.

I have started a blog encouraging people who are walking through difficult times. Please take a look and share it on your blog or link it so others might be encouraged in recovery. I am learning to take the ashes of my life and turn them into joy.weepingintoashes@wordpress.com

Oh my god this is the first time I have ever read your blog! (How did that happen?!)
I can’t believe how hilarious you are being about the whole situation!! I envy your upbeat and honest spirit! You’re an inspiration! When I get a tiny scratch or bump on my body I bitch and moan for days…HA! Talk about bringing shame to the behaviour of the rest of us!

I’m going to subscribe now and look forward to keeping up with your recovery and more!

I ran across this blog entry tonight and I wish I had your humor. I was just diagnosed with a grade 2 glioma 5 (almost 6 weeks ago) with the location everybody is worried about touching it, its in my motor sensory strip in the brain (left side so it will effect the right side). Like you, I have multiple doctors, neuro-oncologist and a team of neurosurgeons… and you are right who would ever think they would have to say that they have a brain tumor? I sure as hell didn’t! I would love to know how you are so positive about it, I am living in the denial stage right now, especially after hearing the phrases “not curable” “inoperable” and “we are focusing on quality of life rather than quantity” I might have to find a name for my tumor as well instead of “IT” I hope everything went well for you!

Geraldine, I’ve just been told I need surgery and I thought about your summer and how your good sense of humor helped you through it all and kept us cheering for you.

I wrote a draft post on my blog for myself about my upcoming surgery but didn’t publish it, thinking it would creep everyone out. Then I thought, screw it, either they’ll get to know me or they’ll run away screaming. Better yet, I may help someone. I’m sure you’ve helped many people during your ordeal.

So I posted it. I immediately got a message from a friend saying the post couldn’t have come at a better time. Her stepmother was going in for surgery the next morning and the whole family was feeling down. My post got them all laughing again and lifted them up.

Like you, I don’t monetize my blog. I write because I need to and I hope it will help someone. Her message was a big paycheck.

Oh, lady. I am so damn sorry to hear that you have to deal with that (and have dealt with it for quite a while now). Your post is brilliant (“Is the rest just to impress me?” HA!). I’ll be thinking about you.

In fact, my brain has been home to a lovely benign brain tumor (affectionately called Pedro) for the past 5 years. One of my best friends sent me this post, since she knows my relationship with Pedro quite well… and I was SO HAPPY to see that I have a fellow tumor-anthropromorphizer out there! I figure, if it’s going to live in your head, you might as well make friends and do your best to get along for the time being

Would love to hear more about your journey with young Steve… shoot me a note if you want!

Hi,
I am a brain tumor survivor. I nearly died last year as the tumor was undiagnosed for about ten years. It was located on my frontal lobe and caused clinical depression so I had to retire from teaching. Thankfully, I did not have cancer but my road to recovery has been a challenge.

I am now writing an encouragement blog of encouragement for anyone going through a major illness or trial. It has a Christian perspective. You can read about my story by going to CATEGORY and selecting MY BRAIN TUMOR STORY. http://weepingintodancing.wordpress.com/

I wish you the very best care. I had my surgery done at St Josephs’ Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. I am told it has the best neurological department in the nation. I received excellent care.

I am sorry about the brain they discovered. My story is different. I guess there is a different story for everyone. I had a tumor that was growing on my frontal lobe for about 10 years. Slowly it grew and robbed my hope causing clinical depression. I could no longer teach my third graders.

I was wasting away. In the end my memory was greatly affected. I do not remember being told I had a brain tumor. I don’t remember going into surgery or even the hospital. i was like the walking dead. Ina way I think I had it easier than you. I had no fear of possible death as I had no memory left.

I am so sorry for your trial. I hope things go well for you and that you are surrounded by family and friends who can support and love on you.

What an awesome way to confront such ominous news head-on ! I’m not the one brain tumor but I felt for you when I was reading the first part of it. And you were actually making ME more at ease as the reading went on – not only with your directness but also through your humor. The tried and true words that laughter is the best medicine definitely applies here ! All the best wishes for your right and perfect good health !!

I just discovered your blog and I’m perusing some of your old posts. This one had me laughing and crying. I’m a huge fan and think you are a terrific writer. I’m kinda glad I’m late to the game finding you, because now I have so much great material to keep me busy reading. {{HUGS}} from Naples, FL.

Just found this. Was doing some research for a screenplay I’m working on. A screenplay, in a way, based on this. I know how shocking this news can be and how it will always be with you. And the many effects that it has on you and everyone connected to you. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family, always. This is not something that heals completely, but it can heal. And no matter the length in time, it does not just go away. I am 27 years old and was diagnosed with a brain tumor (benign thank god) at the age of 14. Yes it is traumitizing, it’s rather painful, but as you demonstrate wonderfully it builds character. I even had to have a permanent shunt put in. But now I’m doing fine. I hope the same goes for you. I know this is trying but it gets easier to accept with time. Like everything, time will work its wonders. Chin up!

I just came across this as well. Wish I did sooner, because I would have been able to share with you that I too have a brain tumor. I am 27 years old now and was diagnosed at age 14. You are able to live with this diagnosis though. When you discover this dreadful news it’s easy to feel sorry for yourself, and plain scared shitless. After surgery, which is a blessing if you get, being older may make healing a bit more of a challenge, saddly. You may have difficulty talking, walking, keeping your balance (I still have issues today), swallowing, and moving in general. I know I had to relearn everything, but every case is different. You may even have issues with recalling certain words, and issues with double vision. Which I still have today, but you do learn to live with it. For example, I worked at a magazine publishing office, then was a dog walker, and now I specialize in the work with bullmastiffs (not a slight dog). Physical and occupational therapy are a must. And even after discharge keep at the therapy. I admit throughout the years I’ve slacked a little on therapy but great motivators are, for double vision, watching T.V. Seriously, sitting there and concentrating on making the images one is a great work out for the eyes. Also, for balance, any dancing. I prefer Jazz. Or for balance, horse back riding. It’s a great work out and if you like horses it does not seem like work. For
occupational, singing. Stretching is also key. Also, finding a job that you love is very important because not only will it lower stress it will also keep your brain active in a positive manner. I would also recommend a pet. Because they can always be right there for you. I know loved ones are there for you but having something physically with you that makes you smile is always good. Hang in there. This is something that never goes away, but with time it will get easier to accept.

I’ve been an occasional lurker, never witty enough to keep up. I never knew about this and now have to write to say that I am so glad that you are OK because you are a joy and a delight. Thanks for what you do!

I just found out last week I have a brain tumor that has been the cause of all my insane headaches and mood swings and it’s a relief to know it can be solved finally. I gotta say I was thrilled to find this blog, I had a hard time finding anyone that appreciated my humor ans jokes about the situation good reads. Thanks a million! PS I did name my tumor and I IMMEDIATELY resorted to the Schwarzenegger jokes. I also went with “guys calm down! Its NOT like it’s brain surgery or anything! Oh wait…. never mind..”

I was diagnosed with a brain tumor in October 2013. His name was Bart. He was removed from my life in November. I wish I would have found your blog prior to surgery. It’s wonderful and I can relate to it so very well!

The day I was told I have a brain tumor I immediately named it Henry B. Nine since I’ll be carrying him around for a bit while the doctors decide how we deal with him. I thought I was the only one who actually gave a tumor a name, so it’s nice to know I’m not. Even nicer to know that others have my warped sense of humor. I don’t see the sense in sitting around the house crying and wringing my hands over it. That gives Henry too much power. Thanks for sharing your blog.

I just stumbled upon your log while searching about brain tumors. My aunt is in surgery at the moment and your humor and writing couldn’t be a more perfect mood changer. Thanks! P.S. I’ll certainly be a regular from now on!

Has anyone had any side effects years after brain surgery? I now have seizures three years after brain surgery. I encourage all readers to get copies of their charts. We truly are our own patient advocates. It’s also easy to look back on what happened, test results, dates of procedures etc., instead of irritating people repeatedly with the same questions.

Hi Cathy,
I had an orange-sized menegioma removed from my left frontal lobe in May 2011. I was lucky enough to not have any problems after surgery or during recovery. I didn’t even have to take anti-seizure medication. Until June 2013. I had a seizure during a trip to London. We took a red eye flight out of Seattle with a stop in Iceland on the way. By the time we got to London I had not slept for almost 60 hours. We were in our hotel room and I told my wife I thought I was seeing double. Then poof, no memories until someone shining a light in my eyes asking me where I was. Turned out I was in the children’s ward at the hospital. There weren’t any normal sized beds available. Since I’m 6’5″, my wife thought it was pretty funny and took lots of pictures. After two days and an MRI, I was released back into the wild. With medication. Doctors there told me the tumor had reduced my seizure threshold so I’ve been taking meds since. My doctor here says if I’m seizure free, he’ll take me off drugs in June 2015.

i just so happened to stumble upon your blog and find your attitude towards the discovery of your brain tumor, subsequent operation and recovery so incredible! my boyfriend recently underwent a craniotomy for a brain tumor resection (all super-fun words!) and your stories perfectly sum up what the whole experience has been like so far. my only regret is that we didn’t use the opportunity to give his tumor a real dickhead name. although his tumor was confirmed to be malignant, we continue to remain positive throughout his treatment and find whatever humor we can in it. after all, if it isn’t funny, it’s just sad. take care!

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[…] not have cancer. I have been hella anxious since she told Dan and me on Saturday that she has a brain tumor (which she named Steve). She had a biopsy this morning, and the doctors are confident that it is […]

[…] summer, as many of you probably know, Geraldine was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She named it Steve. The three weeks leading up to her surgery were probably the toughest of our marriage, and part of […]